


Next To You

by ithinkyourewonderful



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4064623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkyourewonderful/pseuds/ithinkyourewonderful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aging is a curious thing - who we are at 17 isn't who we are at 36 isn't who we are at 62.  Neither are those we grow up with.  What if who we most feared and hated turned out to be the ones we most need and love?  </p>
<p>Inspired by Ron and Hermione wordless and not touching in “19 Years Later” and my own weird opinion that that Hermione and Narcissa are just so well matched for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always loved the idea of Narcissa and Hermione, I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because they’re both smart, clever women who have gone through an incredible amount and could learn so much from one another? I don’t know. I just think out of all the characters, Ron was the least appropriate fit for Hermione.
> 
> Also, contrary to popular belief, I did not, in fact, create or have any ownership to Harry Potter, or any of the characters in that universe. In fact, they have part ownership of me :)

**2017 - London**

"Well, that's that then."  
"That's that."

Hermione couldn't tell who spoke, she was so focused on watching the trail as it began down the tracks, tracking every turn until it disappeared from view. She didn’t even realize she’d made her way down the platform, following along until she’d reached the edge. “Mione?” Harry asked, snapping her out of her thoughts, slinging an arm around her shoulder "You alright?"  
"I suppose." She sighed. 

She loved this boy, he'd always be a boy to her, always thinking of others, even now, even as he adopted the casual attitude of two friends, it provided her, both of them a quiet moment, a shelter away from the prying eyes of others as they both looked down the tracks that took their children away on the same journey that they took so many years ago. Well... Hopefully not the same journey - theirs had been riddled with death and adventure and war and heartache, but also with love a friendship and so much more. 

"What are you thinking about?"  
"Nothing really - Cissa warned me about this feeling. You know, I hate it when she's right." Hermione laughs.  
"Sounds like someone else I know."  
"I can't imagine who you're talking about Harry!" She teases, trying not to cry.  
"I've missed you. I've missed you both. You all."  
"We miss you too."  
"Is this how it's always going to be?" She asks him softly, trying not to be defeated"Am I always going to have to choose?"  
"No, not always. It's not -"  
"I know." She sighs, knowing the next words from his mouth.  
"Why didn't she come?"  
"She said goodbye to them at home. She didn't want...to make things harder for me and Ron. She... Thinks about these things Harry, about how to make things easier, how to get along, how to make me smile... I wish, I wish you all could see that about her."  
"Oi!" Ron shouts, causing them to turn around, "We were talking of going down to a muggle pub nearby." He indicated to the small gathering of parents, their former classmates, those who survived the war and those who didn't leave when it was over. "Just a quick drink and a bite - old times and everything. Are you two coming?"  
"Yeah," Harry calls back, "We'll follow along."  
“Hold your father’s hand Hugo!” Hermione calls, always worried. They watch as the group begins to make their noisy way out and off of Platform 9 ¾. "Listen, Mione, you know how you suggested dinner last month? Let's do it. I... I don't know if Gin'll come round but…” he shrugs before he can finish. "Let's catch up to them before they set something on fire."

They walk towards the pub, bringing up the rear with Draco and together talk about such mundane things like work and ministry gossip and Quidditch scores but stop short before entering. "Well boys, I think this is my stop." She sees Ron in the window with Ginny at his side. "I don't think I was invited…” She knocks on the window to catch her son’s attention and waves bye. He’ll be home tomorrow, she tells herself, he’s just so excited to stay with Molly and Arthur for the night. She catches Ron’s eye and returns his small smile. Maybe they will get past all this? “Don’t be silly.” Draco argued, rather unconvincingly.  
“It’s a little easier this way, besides, Cissa’ll be wondering where I am soon enough.” She smiles.  
“Gin’s the same way.  Dinner next week, yeah?” Harry asks, giving her a long hug, honest in his affection.    
“Yes, I’ll owl you a few days that’ll work? Draco, you and Astoria should come too!  I know Cissa’ll love to see you.  She sends her love.” She hugs the blonde man goodbye as well.  
“It’s weird to hear her called ‘Cissa” He teases.  
“Yeah, well it’s more weird to call her your mum, isn’t it?”  
“Things I don’t want to think about.”  He only half-pretends to shudder.  “Send an owl and we’ll be there! Can’t let Potter have all the attention.”

Hermione smiles as she walks away, hearing them argue as they make their way into the pub. She decides to walk home, it’s a perfectly grey and dreary London day and she wouldn’t have it any other way and by the time she gets to her building, the streetlights are on but their flat is dark.  Perhaps Cissa is out?  She makes her way up the stairs and lets herself in.  She places her keys on the table by the door and hangs up her mac.  “Cis?” She calls out, “Cissa?”  There’s no response.  She goes through the house, picking up this and that left over from their flurry to get to the train in time.  Rose and Hugo certainly inherited that from the Weasley side, she smiles, dumping them on a side table.  A slight sound from the living room catches her attention and she makes her way through the near dark of room where she finds Narcissa asleep on the couch.  She can’t help it, in that moment, her heart swells until it hurts.  Any lingering sadness from earlier is replaced by…contentment.  “Cissa?” She seats herself on the edge of the couch, brushing some of the other woman’s dark hair out of her face - funny how it hasn’t aged since she first saw it all those years ago.  “Cissa love, wake up?” She places a chaste kiss on the other woman’s lips to be rewarded by the fluttering of eyelashes a kiss that deepens and all but takes her breath away.  “I was having such a nice dream.” The older woman speaks when their kiss ends.  “How was it?”  
“I am not going to say you were right.”   
“But I was, wasn’t I Dear?” She smirks as she sits up and motions for the other woman to settle beside her.  They’re curled up on the couch now, watching the lights of London spread out below them through the windows.  “How are you?”  
“I saw Draco - I invited Harry and him for dinner next week.  They both said they’d come.”  
“That’s lovely.  If I say I remember Draco’s first day, will you tease me for being old?” She laughs.  
"I mean, not to your face..." Hermione laughs. "I...wish you had come Cissa. I wanted you there."  
"You understand why though, don't you?" Narcissa asks, placing a quick peck on the other woman's hair. "It's something for families to share."  
"Are...are we not family to you?" Hermione asks, pulling herself out of her lover's embrace and rising from the couch. 

There's no response. What response could there be, really? 

She heads towards their private bathroom and closes the door. They were here again, this impasse that they found themselves in more and more frequently. What was all of this for? All the looks and gossip and not-so-subtle exclusion from Wizarding society if they weren't in this together, if they weren't on the same page, if they weren't a family? She can hear the front door click and it's all it takes for her to lose what little control she's managed to hold over her emotions today. Her children have left her, her babies, her darling children that she has vowed to protect and love and adore for all of their lives and all of hers. They aren't children anymore. Sometimes it feels like they aren't hers anymore either. They're now out in the world and she can't guard over them and protect and defend them. And her life? Where was that happy ever after? That ending promised to them for vanquishing Voldemort and saving Wizard-kind? Is this what being a grown up is? Looking around at your friends and your life, all unrecognizable now? 

She turns on the shower, one of her favorite muggle amenities and sheds her clothes before stepping beneath the hot water. She presses her forehead against the cool tile and begins to cry. She can't tell how much time has passed but the water has cooled until she hears Narcissa's soft voice murmur and it warms back up. She wipes the steamed glass to reveal her lover sitting on the edge of the sink, a glass of wine in her hand. "I thought you'd left."  
"Do you want me to go?" She asks, her decades of practiced detachment taking over.  
"No."  
"Good, because I'm staying so long as you'll have me." She takes a sip from the wine glass and rises from the counter. "I think you're clean enough now Mione." A fluffy white bathrobe appears in her hands and she holds it open as an invitation. "If you stay in, you'll wrinkle like a Goblin."  
"I don't care." She pouts.  
"You are starting to sound like the children, please come out.” No response. “Hermione, please come out otherwise I'm coming in."  
"You wouldn't dare!"  
"One... Two..." Narcissa removes her blouse and drops it with Hermione's clothes in preparation to enter the shower.  
"I'm coming out! I'm coming out!"  
"Pity." Narcissa sighs, fighting the smirk that found itself across her face often with this wonderful woman. Hermione steps out and is instantly surrounded by the bathrobe and Narcissa and she can't help but hum in appreciation. They stand there with Hermione's hair dripping on Narcissa's nude shoulders for a minute, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Hermione's back. "Are you feeling better now?"  
"I... Yes. I don't know why -"  
"It's a hard day for parents... Every time I put Draco on that train, I would be inconsolable for hours. It would drive Lucius mad."  
"It wasn't just that - it's a large part but - us, I mean -"  
"I don't want to have this conversation just yet...after dinner."  
"Dinner! I forgot all about it!”  
"Luckily I did not." She lets go of the younger woman and reaches for her glass of wine and takes a sip before offering the rest to Hermione and turning to leave the bathroom, "No need to dress, it'll save me from having to undress you later." She calls out playfully before disappearing into the darkness. 

Hermione quickly braids her hair out of the way. She still has an affinity for the ways of her youth. She takes a look at herself in the mirror before she takes a sip of the wine. What she wouldn't give to look like a woman and not an overgrown 16 year old. Cissa had an elegance about her that sh’s envied from the start, and she looked closer to Hermione's age than Hermione herself did. "Mione love?"  
"Coming!" She sighs. 

She finds the kitchen empty and spotless, a sure sign Cissa didn't cook. "In here!" Cissa directs, leading Hermione to the living room, awash with the soft glow of candles. There are takeaway containers on the table and a nervous Cissa off to the side. "I thought..." She doesn't finish the sentence, gesturing down at the coffee table instead.  
"You hate when we eat in here."  
"It makes you happy... I hope I ordered the right thing. I got there and realized you usually ordered for us."  
"I'm sure it's perfect." The smell of takeaway makes her realize just how hungry she is. "Thank you." She moves to the other woman and holds her by the waist and kisses her softly. "And thank you for not putting your shirt back on."  
“If it makes you happy." Cissa murmurs against Hermione's lips. "Who am I to argue?" 

They settle down to eat, Hermione curled up in Cissa's side once more, keeping the conversation light until all the tension had been removed from the room. "Mione, I have to ask you..."  
"Why don't you - why don't you think of me as family?” Hermione begins, “Why don't you think of Hugo and Rose and I as your family? And I know I interrupted but I just...I want to know."  
“I…"  
“I think of you as my family now. I invite you to live with us, over and over, in hopes that one day you’ll say yes. I hope that one day I’ll come home and not have to wait for your owl to let me know if you’re coming over, because you’ll be here, this will be your home.”  
“Mione-” Narcissa eases out from the other woman’s side and rises, pacing against the window. “Mione, I…can’t do this like this.” A quick flick of her wand and she’s back in her shirt. “There, that’s much better. Hermione - you are… incredibly exceptional but…as a muggle you-”  
“As a muggle, what?” Her voice drops dangerously low. This is the first time Narcissa has dared bring this up.  
“Family is a difficult word, for Purebloods I mean. Family is everything to a Pureblood, especially from my generation. We were taught - well, you know what we were taught.” A droll chuckle escapes her lips, trying not to think of the faint scar across the other woman’s arm. “So much evil has happened in the name of Family. I have been complacent in so many…” She takes a pause and looks out the window to the city lights. “You, for as long as I care to remember, you are the good in my world. You, and Draco, and now your children. You have given me - Mione, you and Hugo and Rose have shown me things I never had with Draco, and now I can share with him and Scorpius.” The words are hard for her to get out, because despite how much she and Hermione talk about anything and everything, there are some things that have always been removed, distant from their relationship. “Family is a painful word, it’s dirty and cruel and you are…something so completely different from it for me. You are, Merlin help me, you are…a harbor. You and your children, and this flat that I somehow never want to leave, are my harbor and that to me means so much more. Do you understand what I’m doing a poor job of conveying Mione?” She asks as she turns around, only to find her lover crying. “Mione?” She’s uncertain if she should approach her. She still doesn’t know how to deal with this woman’s emotions yet, she always seem to have so many bubbling just below the surface. Or perhaps, it’s just with her, maybe she brings them out in the younger woman.  
“Oh Cissa.” Hermione sighs as she rises. She makes her way slowly to the older woman and cups her face in her hands and places a tender kiss on her lips before she holds her tight.

They stay in their embrace for a few minutes, before Narcissa murmurs in her ear: “I did have another word for you though, Mione, if you’d consent?”  
“And what word’s that Cissa?” She asks, pulling back to look the other woman in her eyes. “I always forget how blue they are.” She smiles, “Sorry, you were saying something before I got distracted. What was it?”  
“Wife.” Narcissa states in her direct manner.  
“Wife?” Hermione squeaks, certain she’s hearing things.  
“As in, would you…be my wife?”  
“Cissa, are you - serious? Are you aware of what you’re asking?” Hermione steps back, peering at the other woman, trying to see the trick, the set up.  
“I am asking you to be my wife. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. I was allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. I might still have been if not for you, dearest, loveliest Mione! What do I not owe you? You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."  
"You were reading Pride and Prejudice again, weren't you?” That’s all that she can focus on, that this woman is now quoting her favorite book, feeding her her favorite meal.  
"I was afraid I would be unable to best those words, to better them."  
"I... Want to say yes but -"  
"But you need to think it over." Narcissa steps back, not angry, but aware of the other woman's need for space.  
"I'm sorry.” Her heart breaks as she can see the wall of ice fly back up around Cissa.  
"Don't be. I am asking you to alter your whole life to meet with mine, to join not only yourself, but your children, to me and mine. I would worry if you didn't think it through." She picks up the discarded containers and begins to clean up, leaving the younger woman in the living room. "Would I have to take your name?" Hermione calls out, not moving. "Would I have to be Hermione Black?"  
"You can if you'd like. Or you can keep your own."  
"You can take mine, couldn't you?"  
"I suppose." She answers cautiously, "Although I can't quite see myself as a Narcissa Grainger, can you?" She raises an eyebrow in deliberate haughty fashion towards Mione who smiles softly. "Actually yes, I can. 'This is my wife, Cissa Grainger.'"  
"Your wife?"  
"I told you I want to say yes, I just..." She moves towards the other woman and wraps her arms around her waist. "Oooh! Perhaps we can hyphenate? The Grainger-Blacks. Can we do that? Do they allow for that? Wait! Can two witches even marry?"  
"While uncommon, there is no law or rule prohibiting it.  Come, let's put you to bed." She steps back and leads the other woman to the bedroom. "Just me? Where are you off to?"  
"You said you wanted to think."  
"I can think with you. I can think better with you. I can, in fact, think better with you undressed." She kissed the other woman, a quick peck on the lips which grew deeper, more passionate, as if each were trying to show the other, wordlessly, how much they meant to one another.  Hermione moved the kisses lower, to the other woman's jaw, down her neck, along her collarbone and back again. "Mione, you're making it very hard to leave you."  
"Good," She murmurs between nips and pecks and licks and sucks, "because I don't want you to leave." She unbuttons her lover's blouse to allow her more access. She can't get enough of this moment - this moment where she has the whole terrain of Narcissa's body to explore. It's like a new world, no matter how often she’s experienced it, where she has an infinite number of choices. She gently pushes the other woman down onto the bed before slipping out of her robe and joining her. When skin meets skin a slight gasp escapes from one of their mouths - the spark between them palpable. It had always existed, in some way, shape, or form, between them.


	2. Chapter 2

**2017 - London**

“How did we get here?” Hermione whispers to herself later that night, curled against the other woman’s form in bed, her fingers mindlessly wandering the scarred expanse of her exposed arm.  
“Don’t you remember?” She gets a sleepy response, Cissa’s voice even richer when half-awake. “I tried to put you to bed and you ended up seducing me. You’ve a very bad habit of that, I must say.”  
“I seduced you?”  
“Didn’t you? All those years ago?” Narcissa asks.  
“I most certainly did not! I have never in my life seduced you or anybody else.”  
“That you know of, Dear. Those eyes of yours however have their own magic. Now, am I to get no rest tonight?”  
“I can’t sleep. I’m busy thinking.”  
“I know, but I’m not, and I can sleep.”  
“Tell me a story… Tell me the story of how we met.”  
“Weren’t you there?” The older woman laughs, “Should I take it personally that you can’t recall how I came into your life?”  
“I want to hear it from you. I want to hear your side of things. I know mine, and it’s very boring.”  
“Your life is anything but boring. YOU, Dearest, are anything but boring, despite what you think in that muddled mind of yours.” She shoots a pointed look at Hermione, somehow always aware of these moods that seemed to take over.  
“Story please.” Hermione demands, trying to change the subject.  
“Very well, once upon a time, there was a woman and she was very lonely..." 

Hermione closes her eyes and let's Cissa's words wash over her nude back like a warm blanket, a cool breeze. Truth be told, she loved her voice. She relished in the depth. So much like the woman who spoke it, no one ever suspected such complexity from a woman so slight, so beautiful. 

"Am I the lonely woman?” Hermione asks, “Or are you? Because -"  
"I am telling this story and if you interrupt me once more, Mione, I will stop. Honestly," she sighs, skimming her hand lightly across the prone woman's back, "You're as impatient as Hugo sometimes."  
"I'm sorry, please continue." Hermione feigns contrition as she stretches then smiles softly.  
"That's better. Once upon a time, there was a woman and she was very lonely..." 

Narcissa decides to recount the first time she saw Hermione for the first time, really and truly saw her. Not as a teenager Diagon Alley, or an adversary in the halls of Hogwarts, not even as a captive during the horrors of her manor. But the first time she had seen her as a woman, an equal who had endured hell and more than survived, flourished specatularly.

**2009 - London**

_It was in the midst of a crush of Muggles at the intermission of the Ballet._

_While she was mulling over the fact that Muggles, much like Wizarding society, had no patience, she was struck with the thought that the woman with the auburn curls looked familiar. She found herself turning her head every so often, not quite tracking the other woman on her solitary journey to the powder room, but simply…noticing. The way women notice other women. It wasn't until she was safely ensconced in her seat in the boxes that she realized she was watching a member of the illustrious Golden trio make her way back to her seat. She cleaned up nicely it seemed, then again, what was that muggle saying of 'home advantage'?  It was distracting, to say the least, for Narcissa to have her attention split between the stage, with its performance, and the woman below with her expressions of rapture. Needless to say, her date for the evening, a middle entry politician in the world of muggle politics was less than pleased._

**2017 - London**

"Wait," Hermione interrupted. "You never said you were on a date! You were, weren't you? With whom? Tell me! Tell me now!”  
"You never asked." The older woman shrugged.  
"You were captivated? You never mentioned that either."  
"Yes well, I am nothing if not excellent at playing hard to get. Now, shall I continue?"  
"You may."  
"I found myself ... Wondering about you.” Even in the dark, she sees the beaming smile on her lover’s face. “Not in that way, not yet. But more why you were there alone, and how often you attended these types of events. It was the first time I thought about... Well, what you must have gone through as a muggle.”  
“But what about your work with the ministry - you were working on muggle relations, weren’t you?”  
“Not yet. I was still learning for learning’s sake. I had never been out in the world unencumbered by others demands of me. It was so incredible, but curious, to be anonymous in this new world right alongside ours. All those years and there was never the actual connection about what that must actually be like, to be born of a different kind, to have to leave it behind, or merge the two worlds - if that was even possible?” Her voice drops slightly as her mind wanders to her lover’s past, her own past.  
"So you saw me and were fascinated by my exotic muggleness.” The other woman teases, trying to draw Cissa out of the darkness and back to her.  
“I’m sorry, did I say I was fascinated by you?" She feigns ignorance. "I was fascinated by work... But you?"  
“My apologies. You were completely unmoved by me, taking no note of my existence until...?"  
"Well why don't you tell me?” She laughs, turning onto her front to get comfortable, mirroring the other woman’s pose. “When did you fall hopelessly in love with me?”  
"I think a little part of me has always been in awe of you.” Hermione confesses, crawling her fingers towards one of Cissa’s hands. “You're an imposing figure Narcissa. You were..." She blushes, "You were so beautiful - I remember that much, even as a child, thinking you were incredible -”  
“Can we not, please, talk about you as a child!” She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to will it away. “It’s already so…”  
“Weird?” Hermione asks, laughing.  
“Well yes! More importantly, it makes me feel so… Old!”  
“You’re not old though, you’re perfectly beautiful.”  
“Mmmmmm.” She places a light kiss on Hermione’s hand. “You may carry on with your story.”  
“If you’re trying to impersonate me - you’re doing it wrong - I’m not nearly as impossible, but fine! The first time I saw you, as you, not Draco's mum or anything other than you, was... The lifts."  
“At the Ministry!”  
“Yes! I had just received message to meet Gavin Underwood for something or other I stepped onto the lifts and you were there. I couldn't stop staring at you."  
"I noticed."  
"You did not."  
"I did. You didn't say anything, just kept staring at me. And then I -"  
"Said 'hello' and I damn near jumped out of my skin."  
"The woman who defeated Voldemort, and she was terrified of me." Cissa's voice grows dark.  
"Not like that-”  
“Yes Hermione, like that. To be honest, I thought that’s why you were staring at me. I know you had become friends with Draco, but I assumed I was another story.”  
“I got off the lifts.” Hermione continues. Cissa isn’t the only one who can read moods and memories, and she’s eager to move her lover past this. “And you got off the lifts. And I kept wondering why you were following me and so I turned corners until you stopped. By which time I was late for my meeting with Underwood and so I rush in, red faced and confused and -"  
"There I was."  
“There you were.” Hermione repeats, recalling that moment of embarrassment and excitement and curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, so sorry for any/all mistakes. As always, feel free to review!


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we know that 19 years later after the battle we end up with our heroes in a flat in London contemplating marriage... But how do we get there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ne beta, so all faults are mine and mine alone.

**2009 - London**

The years after the war were interesting, and while not as eventful as the war time, there was plenty to keep everyone, Narcissa included, occupied.

Narcissa, for what it was worth, used her new-found freedom from the expectations of the Malfoy name to return to learning - an excellent student in Hogwarts (if not a little selective about what she bothered putting her energies towards), she chose the area least expected, the area most foreign - the muggle world. She had taken hours to wandering their world, simply walking about and observing the similarities, the differences. She spent days at a time locked in their libraries, reading their histories, as rich and blood-filled as any of the Wizarding world (And sometimes, because of the Wizarding world). She met people in the Ministry, and more importantly, outside the Ministry who had taken notice of her attentions, who helped exchange her gold to Pounds, helped purchase clothes more suitable than her traditional gowns and robes. They introduced her to Professors and Philosophers and Writers and people in general, Muggle allies who would guide her through their world in return for education about hers. It was on such an exchange, a night at the Ballet on the arm of an unsuspecting friend of a friend that she had crossed paths with Hermione Grainger-Weasley.

It was then, not much of a surprise that she ran into the woman on the lifts the following day. 

Her life worked like this, she had discovered, it always had, as long as she could remember. An unknown path would revealed itself slowly and mysteriously until she could connect the clues and realize what she’s being shown. At times, she wondered if there were traces of Oracle in the Black family lineage. 

When Gavin Underwood suggested re-introduced the two of them in hopes of gaining Hermione’s assistance and influence in their plans, she realizes that in some way, she and this young woman were bound together in some manner. The Muggle Liaisons office has been languishing since the restructuring of the Ministry - with the lowest amount of contact between the Ministry and the Muggle Leaders since the formation of the department. Help was needed, and the Muggle men seemed to respond so positively to Narcissa and her…natural charms that it wasn’t long until she was approached (hypothetically) to gauge interest. There was the matter of her past - and while her son was eventually forgiven, Narcissa was tied to both her husband and her sister. There was understandable hesitance on putting forth a Malfoy (even a former one) to manage and influence Muggle relations. It seemed only natural that they would seek out the influence of the most recognizable Muggle. But as she watches Hermione (not yet her Mione) through the meeting, Narcissa suspects that perhaps this wasn’t the best tactic? There must be better ways than this to lobby for a role than this, despite what Gavin said, but neither of them had found it. Hermione was uncomfortable. Everything about her screamed it. Her back straight, her chin out, her hair all about her, daring anyone to challenge her - all of this posturing and this fear because of her. 

“Thank you Gavin, for the introduction,” She interjects, deciding to take control of the situation before it derails completely. “Ms. Grainger,”  
“Weasley.” She corrects.  
“I’m sorry, I was under the impression you went by your maiden name at work.”  
“I do, I just - you were saying?”  
“I know this is a bit out of the blue,” She continues, trying not to smile at the younger woman’s fluster. “Perhaps we can go out for a walk and we can discuss it a little more…casually?” She rises. She has learned more than a thing or two from her mother and Lucius about how to lead others to get desired results. Leaving little room for rejection is one of them. Hermione rises, half out of instinct and half out of manners.

They say their goodbyes and before Hermione knows it, they’re outside Gavin Underwood’s door. Together.

“I don’t see why we need to talk.”  
“Gavin is brilliant, but like most men, a little too eager.” Narcissa begins, leading Hermione slowly down the hall, “I thought it may be better if we get to know one another a little better. Tell me, did you enjoy the Ballet last night?”  
“How did you know I was at the Ballet?”  
“I was there, a few seats behind you and to your right.” The lifts appear and they begin their journey. “Personally, I preferred the Paris Opera Ballet’s production a few years ago but… here we are!” The doors open to reveal the lobby of the Ministry and they step off. “Shall we go for a bit of a walk?” Narcissa asks, not waiting for a response before doffing her robes and magicking them into her pocket. “You’re in muggle clothes.” Hermione states.  
“Well yes, I find it easier to get about in them than my robes.” She admits, smoothing down the front of her tailored maroon pants and black silk blouse. “We can stay here though if you’d like?”  
“No, no…” Hermione begins, fumbling to get out of her own robes, “We can go out.”  
“Excellent. Have you eaten yet?” Hermione shakes her head no. “I have the perfect place in mind then.” She offers her arm, gallantly, “Shall we?” Hermione takes a moment and looks at her, really and truly looks at her. In that moment, Narcissa feels as if her very soul was being watched, categorized, judged. And it’s in that same moment, Narcissa feels a faint spark in a long forgotten corner of her spirit - then the sudden rushing wind of herself and her companion as they Apparate out of the lobby and onto the streets of Muggle London. 

They land gently, as if they did no more than stepping from concrete to carpet, in a Soho side street. “You alright?” Narcissa asks.  
“Yes, just - that was a little more gentle than I expected.” Hermione shrugs. It’s funny how the buzz and bustle of muggles seems so foreign to Hermione now. “You might be the brightest witch of your age, but I have been told I am not without skill myself Mrs. Weasley.” Narcissa teases. “This way.” 

She leads them out onto the street, where they blend in immediately - or, Hermione thinks to herself, as much as someone like Narcissa can blend in. There’s an air of the regal about her, in how she holds her head up, her shoulders back. Perhaps it wasn’t all Malfoy superiority, but some of Narcissa’s own character. “This has become one of my favorite places in the city.” The older woman admits, leading her to a white building. It’s clean and modern, trust-worthy in that way that only restored building have. They are confidant in themselves, they are knowledgable in what they are and are not. She wonders if she is thinking too much about this, it is just a building after all. She walks past Narcissa opening the door for her and gazes about. She tries not to look like a tourist. She tries not to think it’s sad that she’s now a tourist in her own city. Instead, she takes in the tasteful decor, the tasteful people, and the tasteful woman who brought her here. 

“Ms. Black - how are you?” A young man greets her, coming up to them and smiling.  
“Excellent Peter. I hope you don’t mind, I don’t have a reservation, but we were in the neighbourhood…”  
“Not at all - it’s a quiet day.” He guides them through one room then another and another, each with it’s own wallpaper and color scheme until they reach a nearly empty room, grey and white patterned paper on the walls and sunlight streaming in. He seats them by the window, and smiles when she thanks him for remembering. “It’s my favorite table.” She explains, unfolding her napkin, “I’ve spent more hours here then I care to admit. Jonathan, the bartender -” She motions past Hermione, “Is a history student and has been incredibly helpful.” She smiles at the younger woman. “I can’t tell if you’d like for me to stop talking, or if you’d like for me to continue. A sign towards one or the other would be helpful.”  
“I don’t know yet, actually.” Hermione tugs at the hem of her shirtsleeve. She tries not to be startled by a waiter pouring them both a bottle of wine. “I expected to eat lunch at my desk, not in a restaurant in -” She drops her voice to a whisper “muggle London with Narcissa Malfoy.”  
“Black.”  
“Black.” Hermione corrects herself.  
“Well, thank goodness for the unexpected and unpredictable.” Narcissa raises her glass in the form of a toast, and after a moment, Hermione does the same. “To the unexpected and unpredictable.” She repeats before they sip. “How did they know? About the wine, I mean?”  
“As I said, I come here…often.” Narcissa smiles.

The wine helps and slowly Hermione begins to reciprocate Narcissa’s efforts in keeping the conversation going. And by the time their meal is finished, it’s not effort but a genuine exchange of words and thoughts. By coffee, they realize it’s been hours since they’ve left the Ministry and by sherry, they realize it’s nearing dark, and their quiet room is no longer quiet, but filled with the din of other diners. 

How did that happen? Hermione thinks to herself. 

Narcissa quickly pays and leads them back outside and back to the alley. “Do you miss it?”  
“London, proper magic-less London?”  
“I wouldn’t call it magic-less, but yes, London.”  
“I suppose.” Hermione shrugs, “I try not to think about it. It’s not mine anymore.”  
“Well, if you ever want to visit, or someone to visit it with…” She smiles.  
“I…will keep that in mind. Thank you Narcissa. For lunch and for the offer.” And she means it. “Shall we?”  
“You go ahead, Hermione. I think I’m going to stay a little longer. It’s a beautiful night.”  
“It really is.” There’s a wistfulness in her voice. As much as she wants to stay, she has a home and a husband who is likely worried about her. “Well…Good night.” There’s an awkward moment, then Hermione steps forward and hugs the other woman quickly and lightly. She steps back and quickly apparates home.

“Good night.” Narcissa whispers, before turning around and wandering the streets of Soho. 

The sun is gone, and people are out, in groups and in pairs. 

Like Hermione tries not to think about London, she tries not to think about her companion’s company, and how for a few hours… She smiles and forces her mind to think of something new, something different.

They never did get around to talking about the Muggle Liaisons office.


End file.
